


Jealousy and Other Traits

by forthosebelow



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Domestic, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), M/M, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Rimming, terribly explained mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthosebelow/pseuds/forthosebelow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Phil and Clint 1950’s housewife au where Clint calls Phil “Phillip” and Phil calls Clint “Darling”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy and Other Traits

**Author's Note:**

> This is total crack, I am sorry.

The smell of pot roast greeted Phil’s nose the moment he walked through the front door of his new suburban home. “I’m home darling!” Clint smiled at him from the doorway to the kitchen, cheeks reddened and apron tied tightly around his waist. “Go cleanup for supper, Howard and Steve should be here any minute.” Phil kissed his beautiful husband on his lips before retreating to their bedroom to follow out the simple request.  
Around fifteen minutes later, Phil was in a fresh shirt and answering the door to a grinning Howard and a timid Steve. Steve is always appeared timid even with the mass of muscles he gained from the super-solider serum. “Welcome, welcome, come on in!” Phil gestured for Howard to have a seat in the living room, “Clint’s in the kitchen Steve, you can put down your bowl in there.” Phil lingered a moment to watch the two greet each other, their friendship was so cute and full of enthusiasm. His attention got redirected by Howard, “I brought cigars, Phil, smoke them now, or save them for later?” They decided on later and discussed business as their boys were working in the kitchen.  
“Dinner’s ready!” Clint called placing the salad Steve brought on the table. Everyone chattered as they ate, Steve telling Clint about the new dress pattern he bought and Clint blushed when he asked if he can borrow it because he knew Phil secretly adored it when he wore a dress and the pearls he bought him for Christmas last year. Waiting for Clint to put the finishing touches on dessert, Phil and Howard began talking S.H.E.I.L.D business once again. They looked up when Clint cleared his throat. “Really, dearest, can you not wait to talk about work until after supper?” Phil said his apologies as Clint served the apple pie, Steve’s favorite.  
After supper, Phil and Howard lit their cigars and drank brandy, giving puffs and sips to their husbands every once in a while. They played cards for a bit but Clint kept winning and Phil could see the wheels turning in Howard’s head trying to figure out how Clint did it and if he was cheating. When the evening had wound down Howard and Phil shook hands while Clint and Steve hugged goodbye.  
When they left, Phil rolled up his sleeves and rinsed and wiped the dishes as Clint washed them. They made small talk and joked around, Clint not seeming to mind the water that Phil purposefully splashed onto his shirt. They had met during the war, Clint being a sniper who had been assigned to Phil. It was his eyes that Phil noticed first, the crisp blue-gray color that were always moving, tracking potential targets. Phil thanked God when Clint got shot, not badly but enough for him to get sent home and have an awesome scar and story to tell. He was grateful because the next thing Phil knew, Commander Fury had him on a plane to Hawaii just days before the attack on Pearl Harbor. If Clint hadn’t been shot he would have gone with Phil and maybe not have survived. When Phil got back home, Clint was waiting for him at the base and kissed him like he wanted to suck the air out of Phil’s lungs. Three months later they were married. Their lives were quiet until Howard found Steve, thawed him out, married him, than convinced Phil, an old friend from the war, to move with him to the New York City S.H.E.I.L.D. base.  
Steve and Clint had immediately become friends, which both Phil and Howard were grateful for. Steve had been then recipient of the super-solider serum by Doctor Abraham Erskine during the last few years of the war. Howard had funded it and had fallen in love with the sarcastic, strong willed recipient before the height and the muscles got added on. Howard had been devastated when he heard the Steve had crashed the Red Skull’s plane and spent months searching for it and Steve. When he found it, he swore to never let Steve out of his sight again, so he married him, the great Captain America. All four of the men worked for S.H.E.I.L.D now, under Fury who had been given the branch as a reward for all his hard work during the war.  
“Phillip, honey, where are you?” Clint asked, his voice quiet. Phil realized at some point, while he had been lost in thought, he had finished the dishes and settled down in his chair. “Nowhere, darling.” Clint perched on his leg, running fingers over his forehead to try to smooth out some of the lines and wrinkles. Phil pressed into the hands and pulled Clint more firmly into his lap, pressing kisses along his husband’s jaw. “Thank you for cooking for us tonight.” Clint shifted to startle Phil’s legs. “I was happy to.” Their lips met and Phil leaned back and let Clint smother him during the kiss that was full of tongues and teeth. “Are you really gonna wear a dress?” Clint’s short, military haircut, scraped against Phil’s cheek as he nodded yes. Phil could feel himself going hard in his pants, shifting his hips against his husband’s bottom.  
It took a second for him to mourn the loss of Clint’s lips and the lack of warmth in his lap when Clint sank down to the floor in front of Phil’s chair. Phil’s zipper was tugged down, fly and underwear pushed out of the way, and Clint’s mouth wrapped around Phil’s half-hard cock before Phil could recognize the movements. Clint’s mouth was heaven, warm, moist, filled with a tongue that wormed its way around Phil’s steadily growing hard dick. Then Clint relaxed his throat and tipped his head back, allowing the cock to enter his throat without resistance, sucking in a breath before Phil began to fuck into it. It was only a few minutes that Phil let himself enjoy his husband down on his knees, knowing that if he wanted to really fuck Clint tonight, he would need to stop before he came. He pushed Clint back gently and walked to their bedroom knowing Clint, always obedient when in his I’m-about-to-be-fucked state, would follow. When they made it to the bedroom they both striped and Phil grabbed the lube while Clint arranged himself, ass up on the bed.  
Phil was always tempted to take a picture of that sight, or even get Steve to sketch it for him because Clint looked like an angel positioned like that. Face cradled by his arms, back arched off the bed as his knees were bent leaving his ass up and exposed. Phil sat the lube down on the bed beside Clint’s knee before spreading the man’s cheeks and licking at the hole hidden there, listing to Clint whimper at the sensation. He worked his tongue in and out of the opening, massaging Clint’s ass cheeks until Clint began to tremble with the exertion of not rutting backwards. Carefully Phil slid his first lubed finger into Clint’s asshole until he thought it was loose enough to slide another one in, up to the knuckle. He scissored his fingers, attempting to stretch him as quickly as possible without hurting his husband. A third finger was added before Phil felt comfortable about the loose state of Clint’s hole. Phil kissed the back of Clint’s neck before pushing his now lubed cock into him. They both moaned as Phil started to move within him.  
Phil went slowly at first, trying to drag the experience out because no matter how many times they had sex, Phil was always left begging for more. When Clint’s moans turned to whimpers and his hips were caught in a constant sway, searching for more friction of either his prostate or the sheets against his erection, Phil grabbed his hips more firmly and sat backwards on his heels, bringing Clint with him, until Clint’s back was touching Phil’s chest. One of Phil’s wrapped around his husband’s waist and grasped his aching cock while the other one was left on his hip, grip strong enough to leave finger shaped bruises to be licked and kissed tomorrow, for leverage while he fucked hard and fast into the more than willing man on his lap. Clint came first, head tilted back resting against Phil’s shoulder, as he coated Phil’s hand and his own stomach in semen. With Clint’s neck easily presented, Phil bit firmly into the flesh, right at Clint’s jawline, sucking at the mark as Clint convulsed around him, bringing Phil’s thrust to a halt, as he pushed as far as he could go into his husband and shot his come inside.  
Slowly he pulled out, feeling his come follow and cover his thighs. Clint was compliant was as Phil arranged him on the bed until Phil could easily cuddle around him, saying he loved him and always would, Clint answering in much the same fashion. The come cooled and began to itch uncomfortably on their skin where it had dried. Phil got a wet washcloth and Clint changed the sheets before they tucked themselves underneath it and went to sleep.

*~*~*

The next dinner was at Howard and Steve’s house. Phil thought that mansion was a better term for it though. Steve had filled it with as much art as he could get his hands on. He had been skeptical at first at the notion of spending hundreds on something to hang on the wall, no matter how beautiful he thought it was. Howard had fixed that by going to an art auction and refusing to leave until Steve had picked out his favorite piece without looking at the price tag. The art, not just paintings, sculptures and mosaics too, was littered throughout the three story, not including Howard’s basement workshop, building. “I feel like this is something out of a movie.” Clint whispered to Phil as Howard ushered them over the threshold. “Hey, come down here doll, the company’s here.” A few seconds later Steve came full speed down the gently spiraling staircase to greet his friends.  
Steve gave Clint a tour of the house while the butler, Jarvis, set the table and Phil was dragged down to the workshop to look at some of Howard’s new gun prototypes, and everyone waited for the call of dinner being ready. About halfway through the meal of some Italian dish called lasagna, Howard’s face broke out into a grin, “I’m sorry, doll, but I gotta tell them.” Steve nodded his approval as Phil asked, “Tell us what?”  
“Steve’s pregnant!” There was a long pause before Phil and Clint could get over their shock and start congratulating their friends. “How-how is that possible?” Phil questioned, looking back and forth between Howard and Steve. “The serum changed his hormonal cycle and that’s all we really know right now. But there is defiantly a baby growing in there.” Howard looked so proud of himself. “Well I-we-are so happy for you.”  
Clint was quiet through the rest of the meal and Phil begged off staying any longer, saying he didn’t want to tire Steve out, but guessing that something was not sitting quite right with his husband. As soon as they walked through their own front door, a sob erupted from Clint’s chest. “Darling, what’s wrong?”  
“It’s not fair Phillip. It’s not fair!” the tears were streaming down his face as his voice broke on the words. “What’s not fair?”  
“That Steve’s pregnant! I’ve wanted a baby for so long. And I can’t!” Phil gathered his shaking husband into his arms, “Shh, shh, it’s all right, it’s all ri-“  
“No! No it’s not. Why can Steve have a baby but not me? I want to able to do that for you!”  
“Clint, darling, you don’t need to be able to do that for me. I didn’t even know you wanted a baby.” Clint hiccupped on his tears. “It seemed silly to tell you.” The sobbing continued and his tears soaked through Phil’s shirt. “I’m so sorry, Phillip. But it’s not fair!” Phil clutched his husband all the tighter, this side of him completely new despite the years of them being together. “Are you mad at Steve?” Clint shook his head, “Of course not. I’m-I’m thrilled for him.” Another sop escaped his mouth. Phil held onto him tightly and maneuvered them to his chair, settling down with Clint in his lap and Clint’s head still buried in his chest. Phil let him cry himself out, until he was fast asleep, before he carried his husband to their bedroom, removed his shoes, and tucked him underneath the covers.  
In the morning, Clint was calm all throughout breakfast, dutifully refilling Phil’s coffee cup. “I was thinking about going and getting the fabric for the dress today. Steve gave me the pattern last night.” Phil nodded thoughtfully around a mouthful of eggs and toast, “That sounds good, get whatever you need. I’m sure Fury won’t miss you for one day.” Phil placed a kiss on Clint’s cheek before heading to work.  
When he got home, from a very uneventful day at S.H.E.I.L.D., Clint was sitting, legs splayed, on the living room floor, surrounded by thin pieces of paper with symbols on them that Phil could only guess their meaning and scrapes of fabric. “How’d your shopping go?” Phil asked when Clint looked up and acknowledged his existence. Clint mumbled something incomprehensible around a mouthful of pins. Phil raised his eyebrows questioningly but waited patiently while Clint removed the pins one by one. “It went good but I have nothing planned for super, I actually had no idea it was so late.”  
“That’s fine darling, I’ll worry about dinner.” Phil wasn’t completely lost in the kitchen, unlike most of the fellows he knew. Men like Clint and Steve were few and far between, with their want and acceptance to take on the more generally considered feminine roles, like cooking and keeping a neat house. Phil had never had to question whether or not Clint was happy doing it, because it was obvious to look at him and see that keeping house was something that he loved to do, if even just for Phil. But with the rarity of these men was also the rarity of men who knew how to cook, and there Phil was a little less than lacking. He didn’t, at least, burn toast. They did end up however eating sandwiches for supper that night.  
Phil forgot about the dress. There was a mission off somewhere in the Southwest, dealing with a hammer from space, an intergalactic grudge match, a couple brilliant scientists and one of theirs mouthy little daughter that lasted for about a month. When he got home the only thing he wanted to do was take a real, proper shower, eat, get off with his husband that he missed so much and fall asleep being able to cuddle up to that man. As he dumped his duffel bag by the front door, Phil could hear Clint rattling around in the kitchen and he snuffed in a few lungfulls of the smell of home, dinner, Clint, the soap they used, everything that made this place home. His eyes were closed as he smelled but he could hear Clint walking towards him but it sounded differently than it should. When he opened his eyes he scanned Clint from top to bottom, Clint looked slightly taller, the pearls on and a purple dress that flared out at the hips and hit right at the knee, and heels, honest to god heels. Phil had always sorta hated himself for liking how men, how Clint looked in dresses. If he, himself had been in a dress it would have felt horribly degrading. He never liked the thought of degrading someone else. But one night, totally blissed out, Clint had asked him if he wanted to see Clint in a dress. The yes came out before he could stop it. Phil didn’t want Clint to be a woman. He loved Clint just the way he was. If Phil had wanted a wife then he would have one.  
But looking at Clint, wobbling slightly in the black pumps, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips made Phil’s mind do backflips. “You look gorgeous.”  
“Welcome home.” Clint kissed him then, softly, carefully before Phil grabbed his waist and held on, deepening the kiss. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Go take a shower, can’t have you getting my new dress all dirty.” A stray hand grabbed Clint’s backside on Phil’s way to the shower.  
As soon as the shower was done and the roasted chicken and vegetables and chocolate cake were devoured, Phil pulled his husband into their bedroom and stared at him, soaking in every detail of how he looked at that moment, until Clint began to squirm under the attention. Cupping Clint’s face in his hands, Phil started to murmur about how much he loved Clint, he knew he wasn’t making much sense, but Clint understood and nodded along, turning his head and pressing kisses to the sides of Phil’s hands. The dress rustled as Phil pushed it up, feeling the satin of panties, not underwear he told himself, too soft, too fancy to be underwear. Clint buried his face in Phil’s neck as the panties were pulled down and Phil moved to brush fingers over his hole only find a plug there. “I wanted to be ready for you.” The lust that traveled through Phil’s body at the statement quickly consumed him. The panties got tangled around one of Clint’s heals as he was pushed backwards onto the bed. The plug was gently tugged out and quickly replaced with Phil’s fingers. “You feel so good, darling.” The extremities were removed dripping with lube and Clint was nicely stretched and Coulson wasted no time in unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. He maneuvered them on the bed before he slowly thrust into his husband’s body.  
“Please, Phillip, want to come on you cock.” Clint begged a few minutes later. There would be bruises by tomorrow by how hard Coulson was gripping at his husband’s hips. The heels were digging into his back as Clint urged him on faster, harder. He shifted positions so he hit Clint’s prostate, loving the way it made him scream. Clint came untouched, ruining the fabric of the dress that was tucked around his armpits. Running fingers through the come on his chest, Clint looked up his husband through under his eyelashes, “Want you come, Phillip, please?” Phil plunged in and filled his husband up. “Thank you.” Clint whispered as Phil laid down next to him and cuddled him close, sleep already seeming like a necessity. “No, thank you.”  
Phil started to notice little things concerning Clint after that night with the dress. He was more emotional, looked longingly at babies and their mothers wherever they went, and absolutely refused to go anywhere near Steve. It was always late at night when Clint would ask how his friend was and how the baby was growing. Clint was very obviously jealous. He stank of it. And Phil wasn’t sure what to do about it. He couldn’t get his husband pregnant. It was the one thing Clint actually wanted that Phil couldn’t provide.  
It was a Tuesday when Coulson was presented with the idea of going to the Soviet Union to gather intel. Wednesday, after a bad night with a crying Clint, he agreed to go with one request: Clint went with him. Fury rolled his eye and agreed. The Soviet Union wasn’t the safest place at the moment to take his husband but it was far away, and had a vastly different set of problems from their everyday lives. Clint agreed to go and they left that Friday. They rented a house and settled into the wait for the right contacts to present themselves and the right in to gather information. The oddest part of the mission was there their aliases weren’t married because the Russians were sensitive on the topic homosexuality. Clint wondered aloud about what they thought two men living in a house together did, waggling his eyebrows before begging Phil to fuck him, just to smite those damn commies. Phil was more than happy to comply.  
It was a few months before they were acquainted enough, as Mr. Dunn and Mr. Peters, to be allowed onto a military base where new contacts were made. It was two months after that they were considered trustworthy enough to gain aces to more secured and secret bases,  
So far Phil’s plan had been working, to keep Clint distracted at least until Howard and Steve’s baby was born. It worked up until a tour of a base were they were keeping orphans to be trained into the perfect soldiers. No one who didn’t explicitly know Clint would not be able to tell how enraged he was or how his heart was breaking, but Coulson knew all his tells and nervous twitches. There was a little girl with curly red hair and big green eyes, who looked like she couldn’t be older than four, who clung to Clint the moment he came near her. The guard who was showing them away moved to take her away but Clint waved him off as the child started to babble hurriedly in Russian. Coulson didn’t know much about children but the girl seemed too small and birdlike to have so much fluency when speaking. He wasn’t able to ponder more about her when an alarm went off, eliciting a small, terrified noise from the girl, and a moment later a small troop of soldiers were running towards, saying that Clint and Phil were American spies and needed to surrender immediately. No weapons were allowed to visitors on base, capture was not an option and Coulson whirled around searching for anything he could use to defend himself. He saw nothing. Not even Clint. He was just gone, vanished into thin air.  
For hours Phil sat in his dark, dank holding cell that he had been brought to. No one came to question him or torture him. Coulson assumed that meant no one on base was qualified and they were waiting for morning to transfer him to another location. Why Clint had left, he didn’t know. Clint was loyal to a fault, all the way to his bones and whatever had required leaving, Phil had the utmost faith it was for a good reason. Honestly he was happy Clint had left, it, hopefully, mean he was safe. Phil had lost count of the time when he heard a small scuffle outside of his line of sight and then the clank of keys. Clint appeared before him and quickly and quietly led him away and to their safe house.  
“You can come out now, little spider.” Clint said to the dark room, quietly in Russian. A slight movement from behind the top of curtains that gave privacy to the bedroom caught Phil’s eye before the little red haired girl appeared from her hiding place. Spider indeed. “She’s coming home with us, Phillip. She needs us.” Clint said in English. Coulson nodded staring at the little girl as she attached herself to Clint once again. “…I need her.”

*~*~*

Natasha, as the little girl had eventually identified herself as, looked very skeptical of the baby laying behind the glass wall in front of them. A smile crossed Phil’s lips as Clint just hugged their little girl all the tighter, Working with SHIELD they had easily been able to adopt the child that the Soviets had no proof actually existed. Now three months after finding her, they were welcoming Steve’s baby into the world. “They wouldn’t let me into the delivery room! Can you believe it?” Howard announced his presence. “He’s beautiful.” Clint said. “What’s his name?” Phil asked at the same time.  
“He is. It’s James Anthony.” Who the names were after didn’t need to be said. James after Steve’s best friend who had died in the war and Anthony after the baby from Howard’s first marriage who had been a still born. This baby though, was alive and squirming, cooing at nothing they could see. “Wrinkly.” Natasha whispered. Clint laughed and handed her off to her uncle Howard. “So Princess, do you like him?” she nodded, staring wide eyed at the baby. “I knew you would. You’re gonna help take care of him, right?”  
“Don’t wanna hurt him.”  
“Oh trust me Princess, you won’t, he’ll be tough. Just like you.” Natasha giggled and Clint would swear that it was the best noise he had ever heard.  
No one blamed Phil when he stopped showing up early for work, or Clint for not showing up at all. Hawkeye would now only be present in emergencies, for now he had a child to raise. There was going to be another supper tonight, to celebrate one year of their little girl joining their family, with Howard, Steve, and Jamie. Clint was braising a duck and showing Tasha how to whip up icing to put on the chocolate cake. So Phil was leaving work early, to go be home with his family.

**Author's Note:**

> Darcy is Selvig’s daughter in this story. I liked the idea of him dragging her around with him on science expeditions and Jane befriending her.


End file.
